Dark Star
by Galadriel1010
Summary: When Torchwood encounters an everyday case with far from everyday suspects, they need help they can trust. Fortunately, Ianto had an extraordinary flat mate when he was at university.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note:** This was written for the Casestory Big Bang on LiveJournal. It is complete, so I will be posting one part a day, which should take me up to the right time to post my next Big Bang.

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><p>Cardiff was not a modern city, nor was it an elegant one. Gentrification and regeneration had polished some areas, like the Bay and the centre, to a twenty-first century sparkle, but money is attracted to money and the lustre didn't spread. Rows of terraced houses stood as they had for a century or more, windows in splitting frames with faded and peeling wood looked out onto narrow streets where potholes harboured puddles between the rains.<p>

Halfway down one of the streets, where a narrow alley split the row of houses and connected it to the street behind, a black SUV squatted in front of a grubby house with boarded up windows. It seemed out of place amongst the battered hatchbacks scattered sparsely along the rest of the street, but ominously confident of its place. Pristine lace curtains twitched up and down the road, but the residents knew not to ask questions about the dilapidated, seemingly empty house that the car's occupants had entered.

It was well known amongst the children that people walked into the alley and didn't come out into the next street. Anyone who grew up on the street knew it was true, but adulthood brought with it inadequate explanations to quieten childhood curiosity and the certain knowledge that the truth was almost certainly unwelcome.

Don't ask. Don't look at the house with the blacked-out windows. Don't think about the people who come and go late at night and the words they say that you can't understand. Don't wonder about the fact that that SUV sits outside so often, the one that everyone knows about. Don't admit you know about it. It's Torchwood business, and the forgotten corners of Cardiff are more susceptible than most to unexplained disappearances.


	2. Chapter 1

The boarded up house by the alley was more peculiar than any of its neighbours would have suspected. Few of them remembered that it had been a pub for a while, but none of them would have guessed that that was what it still was.

The Dark Star was the only retreat for the alien population of Cardiff; those who were stranded there and forced to live in secrecy, hiding from the world or trying to blend in as well as they could, could come here and be themselves. The interior was mock-Victorian, with dark wood panelling below faintly striped pale yellow wallpaper, bare, polished floorboards and a solid, panelled bar in two of the rooms. The other furniture was a mishmash of different style, all heavy built and in similar tones, but clearly not part of any set.

Two houses had been knocked through into one, back to back, and the kitchens of both houses had been converted into the cramped bars where low ceilings added to the claustrophobia. The panelling had been done after the union so that it matched through, but it fit badly in some places, and dark stains marked the woodwork. Despite this, the pub had a comfortable feel about it. The counters were varnished and polished until the light gleamed off them gently, racks of glasses sparkled on shelves above the bar, behind twinkling bottles of tinted liquids.

One of the bottles was shattered on the floor in the front bar, a halo of mint green liquid with darker crystals scattered through it and thick, dark blood mixed in. The bottle had split, and the round base lay like an empty saucer, whilst the neck was cracked and crazed beside the body of a blowfish. His checked shirt was stained with pale green and dark brown.

Owen Harper sat back on his heels and waited for a result. "Based on average body temperature for a Blowfish and the ambient temperature in here... I reckon he's been dead about six hours, Jack."

His boss nodded from his position in the doorway and smiled tightly. "Thanks, Owen. Any idea on cause of death?"

He looked around at the shards of green glass that were littered around and under the body and had crunched under his boots as he came in. "It's a total stab in the dark, Jack, but it might have been blunt force trauma from being hit over the head with a glass bottle."

"Appreciate the sarcasm, Owen," Jack told him sharply, making it clear that it would be a bad idea to push it with this case. "Are there injuries that would corroborate that theory?"

"Yes there are." He got to his feet and stepped carefully across the field of glass, being careful not to pick any up in the tread of his boots where it could damage the car or the polished floor of his apartment. "He's got a fractured skull and lacerations to his head, neck and shoulders, probably from the glass shattering, and on his front where he landed on some of it."

"Murder?"

"Unless it's possible to accidentally hit someone over the head hard enough to smash the bottle, I'd have to go with yes." Owen worried for a moment that he was going to incur Jack's wrath for the sarcasm, but he seemed to decide that he didn't want to have this argument right now and turned to the third team member.

Gwen Cooper had been hovering in the doorway behind Jack, peering past his broad shoulders to get a glimpse of the room. She got a better view now as he stepped into the room, both to give her access and to be able to talk to her. "Right, Gwen," he started, gesturing to the room. "It's all yours."

She frowned at him and propped her hip against the door frame. "What do you want me to do?"

"Investigate the crime scene," he said, as if it should have been obvious. "You were with the police, none of the rest of us know what we're doing."

"Jack, I was a beat copper, not a scene of crime officer," she told him gently, valleys accent thickening with the effort of not laughing at him or being overly patronising. "I broke up pub brawls and occasionally made the coffee."

His jaw clenched and he lifted his head to glare at her firmly. "You must have picked something up, though."

"I'm sorry, Jack, but I just don't know what to do here." She put her hands in her pockets and looked past him. "Anyway, why are we investigating? He's a Blowfish. Does it really matter?"

Owen turned back to the body again quickly, but not quickly enough to miss Jack's expression. It was one of anger and disappointment, mixed with frustration. "Blowfish are an intelligent race. They developed interstellar transport centuries ago and are capable business people. They trade everything from raw materials to currency. Get the idea that aliens are different out of your system, Gwen, because you're probably going to meet a lot who are just like you, who have families and homes and hopes and dreams, and a lot of them will have lost those when we meet them."

He took a deep breath and looked back at the body. "His name was Atraxet. He'd been running this pub for fifteen years, after working behind the bar for twenty years before that. He provided a point of contact between the aliens resident in Cardiff and us, a refuge from faking humanity and a link with home. And someone killed him."

She looked chastened and took a step back into the doorway, flicking her gaze towards Owen for rescue. "I'm sorry Jack. I don't... I don't know what to do."

He sighed and strode past her into the narrow hallway, his coat swirling against her ankles as he brushed past. "Let's get the body into stasis so we don't have to disturb the scene, then I'll go back to the Hub to decide our next move with Tosh and Ianto. I'll fetch the stasis field."

Gwen span around to watch him. "What about us?"

He paused in the doorway and gestured towards the main bar where the body lay. "You two are going to have to stay here and keep the scene secure."

The door swung closed behind him. Gwen met Owen's eyes and shrugged before busying herself with photographing the scene on her phone. He shook his head and started collecting his things together, waiting for Jack to return. "Foot in mouth disease, Gwen?"

"You can talk," she muttered. "I think you're patient zero."

"I've not got foot in mouth disease," he scoffed. "I've got grade A arseholishness. Certified."

The door slammed open again and they fell silent, working diligently to avoid rousing their boss's dark mood further than they already had. He stalked into the room and crouched down next to the body to set up the device that would project the stasis field, then pulled back and gestured the other two away as well. "Don't get caught in it, Owen."

He took another step back obediently and they watched the stasis field shimmer into existence, surrounding the body and its corona of glass. Jack tested it by touching a finger to the barely-there shielding and pulled his hand back sharply. "The field's active," he warned, earning a heavy sigh from Owen. "I want one of you on the door to this room at all times. Treat it like a crime scene, don't touch anything, don't eat in here, don't go in any of the other rooms, ask a neighbour if you need to use the toilet, see if they heard anything while you're at it." He looked around the room for anything he'd left and then headed for the door. "I'll send Ianto down with take-away in a couple of hours."

Gwen watched him go with her hands on her hips, glaring a hole in his back and trying to ignore Owen's dissatisfied mutterings. Once the door swung shut again with a determined thunk she started moving, fluttering towards the bar and tables, running her eyes over the array of bottles and the collection of empty glasses that had been laid out. "Why did he think I'd know what to do?" she asked, interrupting Owen's ramblings on the benefits of a work-life balance that allowed for a life. "He's read my file, I assume."

With a shrug and a long suffering sigh, Owen sat down in the doorway and pulled his phone out. "He probably has, Gwen, but he's set in his ways. Thinks that everywhere's like Torchwood and everyone does a bit of everything. Yesterday you were doing pest control, today it's a crime scene, this evening you might be assisting me in autopsy." She screwed her nose up at the idea and leaned against the wall next to the window. "Besides, you figured Suzie out. First time, at least."

She glared at him and rubbed the back of her head. "And you figured out Morgan."

"Neither of us figured the teaboy out, though," he pointed out bitterly. "He should be here, he's the genius amongst us." Gwen bit her lip and studied the glasses again. "Oh admit it, Gwen, the only reason Jack didn't bring Ianto is because he wouldn't trust him to leave him here."

"Jack does trust Ianto," she protested. "And Ianto stayed late last night again, Jack's probably just made him take the morning off to catch up on sleep. He's been staying late a lot lately."

"Yeah, but why?" He pointed his phone at her. "Why is he staying late? What's he hiding this time? When he was staying late before it was to look after the cyberman."

"Maybe it's just displacement activity," Gwen suggested gently, although she looked doubtful about it. "She was his girlfriend, and then there were the cannibals; maybe it's just how he deals with things."


	3. Chapter 2

Jack wove the SUV through the complicated one-way system between the terraces, waiting for the comms. system to connect him to his team members back at the Hub. "Tosh," he called once it connected. "Is Ianto in yet?"

"Good morning, Sir," an amused Welsh voice answered, brightening Jack's fraught expression. "I am awake, upright and standing by the coffee machine, and I'd like to register my disapproval of this fact."

Jack laughed. "Take a note, Mr Jones; you're the one in charge of such things. You can make a note that I'm to make it up to you later as well, if you like."

"Most magnanimous, Sir. Now, did you want me for something, or did you just want to spoil my morning by getting me out of bed?"

"I know I have a reputation for harshness, but I'm not that cruel. I'm on my way back to the Hub. The Dark Star case looks like it's going to be complicated." He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and nodded to himself. "I'm going to have to ask you to stay late tonight, after the others have gone."

"Of course. Should I have breakfast ready for your return, and should I be worried at the disappearance of Gwen and Owen?"

"They're on guard duty. I don't want the scene getting any more contaminated than it already is, and I don't want anyone getting in there who shouldn't be." He pulled away from a red light and turned onto Lloyd George Avenue, heading down the home straight towards the Bay. "I'm five minutes from the Hub."

"I know, Sir," Ianto told him in tones of rebuke. "I'll call the bakery and have them prepare our order, if you could collect it on your way in that would be a great help."

"Sir, yes, sir."

"Jack..." Ianto managed to sound simultaneously disapproving and amused. "I need to go and make that phone call."

"Alright, I should be back about five minutes after I leave the bakery. See you shortly."

"Bye, Jack."

He smiled to himself as he pulled into the car park under the Millennium Centre and parked in the SUV's reserved space against the back wall. The lift from the car park to the foyer was empty, and the cold weather had driven most people away from the Plass as well. A few hardy souls were braving the bracing winds and brief flurries of rain, but they kept their heads down and ignored him, even when he waved at the CCTV camera on top of the water tower.

Ianto was waiting for him by the cog door when he arrived, barely five minutes later. He took the box of pastries from him and helped him out of his coat, then folded it over his arm and retrieved the box from where Jack was reaching for it again. "I'll get these set out, sir," he reproached him. "And I'll bring the coffee up to the boardroom as well."

Jack sighed and reached out for his coat. "You do that, I'll get this put away. Conservation of energy."

"I think the theory you're referring to is that of comparative advantage," Ianto corrected him over his shoulder. "Conservation of energy is merely performing actions in the most economic order or manner."

Jack rolled his eyes and took the coat to his office, taking the opportunity to drop his gun into his desk drawer rather than carry it around the Hub. The mug he'd left on his desk when he went out was gone, and the pile of paperwork was both tidier and higher. He sighed at it and retreated to the boardroom, where Tosh was calibrating one of the scanners. "New toy, Toshiko?"

"Old toy, new idea," she corrected, sparing him a smile. "I think this should be able to create a 3D recording of the room. Well, what it scans, anyway. So lifesigns, temperature variations, background radiation and Rift and temporal energy."

He nodded and sat down next to her, watching her eyes flicking between the scanner and the laptop it was hooked up to. "What do you know about crime scene analysis?"

"I've watched CSI." She shrugged and sat back. Her glasses hung from her fingers and she tapped them against the table when the door opened to let Ianto in. "It's definitely a crime scene, then?"

"He was murdered," he confirmed. Ianto set the tray down and squeezed Jack's shoulder before he assumed the seat next to him. "Blunt force trauma to the back of the head from a glass bottle. I couldn't tell whether anything had been taken, but the bar seemed to be intact."

Tosh rested her chin on her fingers and gazed at the reflections in the glass wall. "So we have to muddle by and possibly get it wrong, or we have to ask for Cathy's help."

Jack sighed his agreement, but Ianto was looking thoughtful. He set his mug down and leaned back in his chair. "We could hire a private detective."

"They're all hacks," Jack scoffed, reaching for a pastry. "It guarantees secrecy, but also guarantees not getting the truth."

"Not this one." He met Jack's eyes earnestly. "He's the best, gets hired by Scotland Yard when they need a fresh pair of eyes."

He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms, watching Ianto curiously. "How do you know about him?"

"We went to university together." He shrugged it off. "I've kept an eye on him since I dropped out. His name comes up in strange places."

Jack considered him for a while, then nodded curtly. "Bring him in. He's based in London?"

"Yep. He's got a practice on Baker Street."

"Get him in a taxi over here now. You have about three hours to prepare me a security dossier on him." He turned to Tosh and gesture to the scanner. "Toshiko, as soon as that's ready I want you to go out to the Dark Star and do the scans. Do every room, and get Gwen to talk to the neighbours. Someone must have seen something, although they might not want to acknowledge it." He stood up and gestured with the pastry. "I need to talk to some people. Ianto, let me know when he sets off and when you have that dossier ready."

He left the boardroom and headed back to his office, but Ianto called from the doorway, "Sir?"

"Yes, Ianto?" He turned and waited.

Ianto smiled and nodded. "Be careful."

Jack smiled and relaxed some of the tension in his shoulders. "Always am, Ianto. Thanks."


	4. Chapter 3

Jack took a teabag from the box in his pocket and dropped it into a crazily spotted mug whilst the kettle boiled. He resealed the jar of deep blue crystals and put it back against the wall, then poured the water into both mugs and stirred them with separate spoons. "I'm sorry, Grigo. I know it's a shock."

The Blowfish at the table sniffed, huddling deeper into his ratty dressing gown, and accepted the mug from him. "Thanks, Jack. Oh look at me," he laughed and shook his head. "You knew him longer than I did."

"You were closer to him, though," Jack pointed out. He sat down in the chair opposite and watched him drinking his chiklo. "Did he have a partner these days?"

"What?" Grigo blinked at him and shook his head. "No, not recently. Likra was around a year or so again, but I've not seen her recently."

"No bad feeling there?"

"No, not really. Just apathy." He sighed and studied Jack. "I never figured it out, did you two..."

"Once or twice, when we were younger," he laughed. "God, a long time ago." He shook his head and sipped his tea. "Did he seem okay recently? Not worried or argumentative?"

"Pretty normal, really." He set the mug down and tapped the table. "He had fallen out with Yunika a bit, I think. Things were frosty between them."

"Didn't you date her?"

Grigo shrugged. "For a while, yeah. She was a bit career-driven, you know? Didn't have much time for us."

Jack nodded and pulled a notebook out. "You know where she's living now?"

"Down Grangetown way, I think. She's on the books at the Star, though."

"Been working there?" Jack checked.

"Yeah, been taking on a lot of shifts." Grigo frowned in thought. "We wondered if she were in sort of financial trouble, or something like that? I don't think she's got a craze, mind."

Jack made a note of that and hesitated. "I need to know where you were last night."

Grigo's head snapped up and he made a distressed sound. "You don't think... Jack, you know I wouldn't."

"Hey, it's okay," he reassured him gently. "I know that, but have you never watched CSI? I need to be able to rule you out."

He swallowed and nodded. "Well... I finished my shift at about one, by the time we'd got the place sparker, then I walked Ainii home and came back here."

"You got to Ainii's when?"

"About half past one," he guessed, hiding his face in his mug. "Left about two."

Jack grinned. "Oh yeah?"

"I..." He grumbled and shook his head. "Leave it, Harkness."

"Fine." He held up his hands and shook his head. "Not relevant to the case, I'm just gossiping." He paused. "I'm going to have to ask you to come down to the Hub."

"Under arrest?"

"No," he insisted firmly. "I know you didn't do it, but you might be able to help us, and you might be at risk anyway. You'll be safer there."

"You think so?" Grigo looked worried, and clutched his mug tighter.

Jack patted his wrist reassuringly and flashed a grin. "You're with the Captain. I'll look after you."

X~X~X~X

They pulled up outside the Dark Star and Jack turned to Grigo. "You okay to go in there?"

"I... guess so." He swallowed and rested his head against the window. "Is he in there?"

"I'll make sure you don't see him, "Jack assured him. "I did the ID, so you don't have to see him if you don't want to."

"Not yet," he whispered. "I will, but I'm not ready yet." Jack reached across to squeeze his shoulder and he flashed him a grateful but tremulous smile. "He's in the office?"

"No, he's not. And that's all we need to see. I need you to tell me if anything is missing as well as finding that paperwork for me. Think you can do that?"

He pulled the hood up on his parka and nodded, reaching out for the door handle. "I think I need to. Let's get it over with, please?"

They approached the shielded doorway down the alley and looked over their shoulders before ducking through into the living room of the far house, which was a cosy snug. Owen appeared in the doorway at the other end of the room, where the corridor connected it to the other rooms, and kept his gun up even after he saw Jack. "Who's this?"

"Atraxet's friend, helped him run this place." Jack gestured irritably for him to lower the gun and stepped into the middle of the room, out of the doorway. "He's going to help us find if anything is missing from the office. Is Gwen here?"

"Body watching, like you said." Owen gestured at the doorway with his gun. "You want her to take him up?"

"I've got it covered." He looked over his shoulder and beckoned Grigo in. "This is Owen Harper, Torchwood's medical officer. He's a moron, ignore him."

Grigo nodded stiffly and glared Owen down. "Nice to meet you, Harper."

"Alright, fishman," he greeted. "Alright, Jack, I'll leave you to it." And he did, slouching back towards the bar where Gwen was waiting.

Jack sighed at the ceiling and shook his head. "I'm sorry. Like I said, he's a moron."

"I thought you were a good judge of character, Jack." Grigo pushed past him and headed for the stairs, calling back loudly enough for everyone to hear.

"I didn't hire him for his sparkling wit or charming personality," Jack admitted, shooting a warning glare towards where Gwen and Owen watched from the bar doorway. "But he's a good doctor... as long as his patients are dead."

He stopped Grigo before he reached the top and shrugged out of his braces to pull his shirt off and fold it up. "Don't touch anything; use that if you need to. We don't want to contaminate the prints or... something."

The blowfish closed his hand around the shirt and sighed. "You don't know what you're doing, do you? Are you ever going to catch whoever did this?"

"We've got a private investigator on the way," Jack assured him. "We'll catch them, and they'll suffer for it. Justice will out."

"I trust you." Grigo smiled weakly and turned to face across the landing to the office door. It was directly opposite the top of the stairs, in what had been the bathroom before the house was knocked through. "Just the office?" he checked.

"Just the office," Jack confirmed. "We've not been up here, so if there's anything out of place I need you to tell me."

His gills fluttered, but he straightened up and jutted his chin at the door. "No time like the present." With that, he stepped forwards across the short distance to the office, which stood at the top of the stairs, and used Jack's shirt to push the door open.

Inside was a scene of chaos. Papers were strewn across the floor and scattered with a rainbow of pens and a jar's worth of chiklo crystals. The desk chair had been tipped back and laid forlorn on its side, all the pictures on the walls were at an angle and books had been ripped haphazardly out of the bookcase and dropped in a heap between it and the desk. Jack grabbed Grigo to hold him back and shook his head. "The safe's still under the desk, right?"

"I... Yeah, it's..." he shook his head and stepped back onto the landing. "Jack, what happened here?"

He crouched down and knelt in the doorway, leaning forwards and propping himself on his fingertips to peer between the legs of the chair and into the darkness under the desk. He sighed and pushed himself back onto his heels. "Safe is open. Looks like it was just..." He waved a hand. "Just another violent, mindless crime in Cardiff."

Grigo swore in his home tongue and Jack pushed up to his feet and caught him by the shoulders, holding him in place. "I swear, we'll catch whoever did this."

"You'd better," he snarled, snapping out of Jack's hands to pace across the cramped landing and back, footsteps thudding loudly on the bare wooden floorboards. "He was popular, liked by the sort of people you don't want to upset..." He trailed off and turned to lean on the bannister, clutching the wooden rail in gloved hands and leaning heavily. "Everyone liked him, Jack. Everyone. Why would someone do this?"

Jack's comm beeped, saving him from having to answer, and he turned away to deal with it. "Ianto?"

"Right first time, sir. Makes a nice change, I suspect. Toshiko is on her way with a selection of tech that may be useful, and lunch for Gwen and Owen."

He sighed and leaned against the wall next to the office door, looking down the stairwell to where he could see Owen's shadow across the hall at the bottom. "Thanks, Ianto."

"It's my job, sir. I also have the file on our borrowed detective, who's on his way over to us as we speak." He chuckled and Jack raised an eyebrow. "He thanks us for saving him from the tedium of a high profile art theft, which sums him up fairly neatly, in my experience."

Jack laughed as well and straightened up. "Alright. We'll come back there now. We've got a guest."

"Duly noted," Ianto sounded amused. "Will you be wanting coffee when you get back?"

He headed down the stairs and beckoned Grigo to follow him. "Always, Ianto. See you in about half an hour."

Grigo's expression had turned dark, and he looked suspicious of Jack's conversation. "Who was that?"

"Ianto Jones," Jack explained, retrieving his shirt from Grigo and redressing, "is the only reason Torchwood's still going, I sometimes think. He's our general support officer."

"You seem very friendly with him..."

He shook his head sharply and held up his hand. "I'll just go and tell the others that we're going."

Gwen was sitting in the doorway of the bar with her legs crossed and her chin in her hands, and she looked up at him mournfully when he approached. "Jack, can we go yet?"

"Not yet." He glanced into the room and away quickly, not prepared to deal with that again. "The office has been trashed upstairs, so Tosh is probably going to need to go over every room."

"Tosh?"

"Yeah, she's on her way." He looked back at Grigo and smiled reassuringly. "I'm going to take Grigo back to the Hub. It's been a bit of a shock, and he'll be safer there..."

"He's not a suspect?" She looked confused.

Jack sighed. "No. Victim's closest friend. It's a... I'll explain it all later, once we've secured the scene. Come back to the Hub once you've had lunch, leave Tosh here watching the scene with Owen."

"What?" Owen's head snapped up and he glared at Jack. "Why me?"

"Because there is nothing for you to do back at the Hub, and someone needs to stay here." He chuckled and turned away. "Comparative advantage, Ianto calls it."

X~X~X~X

They came in through the garage to reduce the chance of Grigo being seen, and entered the eerily quiet Hub. Jack stepped back to let Grigo absorb it and smiled at his amazement. "This is..."

"This is Torchwood central," Jack finished for him. "This is where it all happens."

"This is where you work?" Grigo turned on the spot and looked at the ceiling. "Where are we?"

"Down by the Bay, under Roald Dahl Plass." He gestured to the water tower and stepped forwards until he could lean on a railing. "That tower goes all the way up to the surface and emerges outside the Milennium Centre."

Grigo sighed and dropped his head. "I wish I could see the city, rather than hide in the shadows."

"I know," Jack commiserated. "It'll come, but..."

"Not soon enough." Grigo joined him and looked past him into the Hub. "We spend our lives in the darkness, and the cold. But is the world outside any brighter and warmer?"

"Not in October, certainly," Ianto's voice drifted over from the kitchen and he emerged with a tray of mugs. "Welcome to the Hub."

Jack relaxed and turned to introduce them. "Grigo, this is Ianto Jones. Ianto, this is Grigo Atnoia, an old friend of mine."

"Grigo." Ianto inclined his head in greeting and offered Jack the tray. "Not the blue one, sir."

"Yes, I had guessed, thank you." He picked up his own mug and watched Ianto take the tray over to Grigo, eyes flickering downwards briefly. "Where did you find chiklo?"

"In the kitchen, sir." Ianto smiled mildly and leaned the tray against the nearest desk to be able to cradle his mug in both hands. "Where else would it have been?"

Jack opened his mouth, frowning, as if about to speak, but just laughed and shook his head before turning back to Grigo. "Ianto is the administrator of Torchwood and my right hand man. The right hand always knows what the left hand's doing." He raised his eyebrows, feigning thought. "The left hand's not always so sure, though."

"Well, if you ever read the reports I leave for you, sir," Ianto teased with a hint of genuine rebuke. He left it hanging and turned back to Grigo. "The captain informs me that you'll be staying with us a while?"

"Derp..." Grigo glanced at Jack and nodded, his reluctance clear. "He thinks it would be best, and I'll take his advice."

"I find that's often wise." Ianto smiled at Jack and retrieved the tray. "If you'll allow me to clean up, I have prepared a room for you and I'll take you down there to get settled in shortly. It's not much, but I can provide anything further you require."

"Thank you, Ianto, but..." he hesitated and glanced at Jack again, his gills fluttering. "I don't want to be a nuisance."

"Not at all, sir." Ianto smiled quickly and inclined his head. "I would hate for it to be said that Torchwood's hospitality is lacking. Now, if you'll excuse me."

He took the tray back to the kitchenette, and Grigo turned back to Jack fully with a thoughtful expression. Quietly, he said, "Jack, he is..."

Jack grinned and nodded. "Quite remarkable? Brilliant? Attractive?" He spoke loudly enough for Ianto to hear, and was rewarded with an embarrassed glare over Ianto's shoulder. "I nearly didn't give him a job. Boy would that have been a mistake."

"What changed your mind?" Grigo asked

"Myfanwy."

He frowned. "Muh-what?"

Jack nodded upwards, towards the gantries of the upper Hub. "Myfanwy. Our pteranodon. Ianto found her and I helped him catch her."

Grigo's expression had morphed to one of perfect shock, and he looked around the gantries with a mixture of wariness and excitement. "You have a pteranodon? I thought they were extinct."

"They are." Ianto returned, still carrying his half-drunk coffee. "But we don't mention it to her and she shows no signs of ceasing to exist. She came through the Rift."

He nodded thoughtfully, still searching the shadows. "The Rift... Lailar, we call her. I think you would call her a god. It is she who takes things... and people."

Ianto smiled at him when he ducked his head. "I'd like to hear some more of your stories and customs, if you have time whilst you're with us."

"Of course." He returned the smile, growing ever more confident in Ianto's presence. "And if you could tell me some of the stories of this country... I have lived here all my life, but it is hard to meet people when one looks like a fish."

"I'm sure," Ianto demurred. He finished his coffee and set his shoulders, turning to Jack again. "Sir, the report you asked for is on your desk, along with a GPS device tracking our guest's mobile. I haven't yet been able to secure all the details of his time with us, but I would like to go over them with you before I do so."

"Yes, Ianto," Jack sing-songed, failing to hide his amusement in his coffee. "I'll go and get started on those while you get Grigo settled, shall I?"

Ianto rolled his eyes and set his mug down on the corner of a desk. "Grigo, may I give you the tour whilst Jack does his homework?"

They left Jack laughing and heading for his office, and descended through the Hub into the tunnels that extended beyond and below the main workspace. Ianto showed him the first room of the archives, with its rows of metal shelves and drawers extending into the darkness, and his own office close to them. It was in the sitting room of one of a group of suites, with panelled walls that were incongruous with the whitewashed walls of the corridor, a threadbare carpet and a collection of tables forming a right angle in the far corner from the door with a computer at one end. He smiled into the room absently. "It's not much, but I don't live here like they used to. Don't even use the bedroom. Your rooms are next door."

Grigo pulled back to let him out of the room and looked behind them at the now-closed door. "You work down here on your own?"

"At least one day a week, yes." He confirmed with fake joviality. "Coffee requests and the Rift permitting, of course." He opened the next door down the corridor and stepped into the room. "Your rooms."

"This is..." He looked around, bewildered, and laughed sharply. "Ianto Jones, you are a remarkable man."

The room was decorated identically to Ianto's office next door, but rather than the bare archiving desks and lone computer the room was set up as a Victorian sitting room with two armchairs and a low coffee table, a desk and matching chair set between a pair of bookcases against the side wall, and photographs of Cardiff Bay against the wall in front of the armchairs. One of the pair of doors led to a Spartan but clean bathroom, and the other led to a cosy bedroom.

Grigo pulled back from the bedroom door and gestured impotently. "Ianto... thank you. I... how did you manage this?"

"I've had it prepared for some time," he confessed sheepishly. "You're the first to suffer it, though."

He sighed and looked around the room once more. "Jack would have been a fool indeed to pass you by, Ianto Jones. I..." He shook his head, lost for words, and laughed. "I will be more than fine here. And I think you must go keep our beloved captain out of trouble?"

"I suspect you're probably right." Ianto ran a hand through his hair and smiled at the floor for a second, then considered Grigo again. "You can find your way back to the Hub?"

"I'll be fine, yes."

"Alright." He nodded once more and backed out of the doorway. "I'll be with Jack if you need anything."


	5. Chapter 4

Ianto entered Jack's office with a fresh mug of coffee and set it down on his desk next to his feet, which he glared at pointedly. "Your guest is happily settled, sir. I confess to being pleased with his reactions."

"Ianto, it's just the two of us. You can turn off the Jeeves impression." Jack smirked at him past the report but dropped his feet obediently. "You've used the old suites?"

"Yes, sir." Ianto sat on the edge of the desk and watched Jack's hands. "I didn't know anyone but me knew about them."

"I've been here a long time," Jack pointed out with just a hint of chastisement. "I used to live down there, for a while."

"I suppose that's why you spend so much time on roofs, then?" Ianto mused. "To counteract the amount of time you spend in the bowels of the Earth."

"Ah, the bowels aren't so bad," Jack laughed. He gestured with the report to change the subject. "This is good work, and he's impressive. I think we're lucky to have him on board."

"His words to me were, 'thank goodness, I thought I was going to have to investigate the million pound art theft'." Ianto chuckled. "Apparently life has been quite dull, with nothing but high profile art thefts, the occasional murder and a kidnapping to investigate."

Jack raised his eyebrows but didn't comment. Instead he asked, "What are the details you wanted to go over with me?"

"Oh, yes. I've invited him to stay at my flat." He paused and watched Jack's eyes flick away from his face and back to the report. "It's been a few years since we last had a chance to catch up – we're neither of us big Christmas card senders – and I thought it would be a good opportunity."

"That's fine," Jack agreed cheerily. "Saves us money on accommodation as well, which is always a bonus. Have I mentioned lately that you deserve a raise?"

"Yes, sir, but you haven't followed through with it yet." Ianto swung his leg and it nudged against Jack's. "I wondered if you'd like to come around for dinner whilst he's here? I think you'll get on like a house on fire."

"Oh?"

"Yes, either very well, or with large amounts of flame, destruction and a couple of deaths if we're unfortunate." He smiled politely. "I would invite Owen to have someone to bet with, but I think his presence might affect the outcome."

Jack laughed and dropped the report into his lap. "Alright, well I'd love to come for dinner. I'll even cook, if you feel the need to impress him. We can even pretend it was you, if you like."

"I'm sure that won't be necessary; he did share a flat with me at university," Ianto reminded him. "Although the offer is appreciated."

"Oh yeah?" Jack looked delighted. "Am I going to find out that you were a hopeless reprobate who left underwear everywhere, and brought home more sob stories than girls and boys?"

"Sherlock is... different," Ianto warned him delicately.

"Different as in?"

He sighed and studied the ceiling. "Different as in disagrees with his therapists to the point where he makes them cry. Hence multiple therapists, really."

Jack absorbed this thoughtfully, then discarded it for the matter in hand. "So no stories about you as a teenage tear-away?"

"He probably didn't notice," Ianto sighed. "I think he was too busy fermenting whatever was in the jar. I didn't like to ask."

"Oh really?" He reached for the mug and smirked over the rim. "He'll fit right in."

Ianto smiled absently and rested his hands on the desk behind him to support himself. "Sir, if I can make a suggestion..."

He sighed and set the mug down. "Go ahead, Ianto."

"You're too involved with this case." His eyebrows drew together over half-closed eyes and his lips twitched as if he was starting to speak several times. Jack folded his hands together and waited him out silently, eyes fixed on the mug next to his hands. Eventually Ianto said, "It's personal, not just a job. And that's distracting you."

"He was a friend, a good friend," Jack explained. "And I can't just stop caring about getting justice for him." He tilted his chin up and met Ianto's eyes.

Ianto dropped his gaze quickly. "I'm not asking you to, and I never would." He glanced up again. "But life goes on for the rest of us, and the Weevils and other residents still need feeding, we still need feeding, I don't know if we're going to have another prisoner tonight..."

"Grigo isn't a prisoner."

"He knows he is, even if you won't admit it," he cut across Jack with a sigh. "Jack, he's at least a suspect, and he accepts that. Just..." Trailing off, he ran a hand through his hair and gripped the back of his neck. "When he gets here, let Sherlock guide the case. And... just do what he tells you. He sometimes has strange demands."

"Should I be worried?"

Ianto shrugged. "Depends on whether he likes you or not. And just because everyone in the world likes you, doesn't mean he will."

Jack's burgeoning grin turned to a pout, but he shook his head and leaned back in his chair again. "We'll deal with him when he arrives, then. Where are we with the everyday? I know I've been neglecting it, you're right... Been neglecting it since you got here, really."

"I had noticed, sir," Ianto smirked slightly, lowering his gaze and meeting Jack's eyes through his lashes. "Everything is under control, and will remain so."

"So..."

He lifted his head and rubbed the back of his neck. "Let me take care of it? Without having to come to you for approval of everything I do. It's time consuming and..." He dropped his head again and sighed, shoulders sagging.

Jack watched him, rubbing a thumb across his lower lip, and eventually nodded. "Go ahead. Bring me stuff I need to sign at the end of the day, or there and then if it's urgent. You're doing a good job, Ianto."

"Thank you, sir." Ianto met his eyes again, raw emotion playing across his face for a moment before it was smoothed away. "I'd better go and make up another couple of rooms, I think. You never know who's going to implicate themselves."

He laughed and reached for his mug again. "You've watched CSI too, Ianto?"

"Poirot, sir," Ianto answered dismissively. "I do like the classics."


	6. Chapter 5

Ianto Jones stood at the top of Roald Dahl Plass, a lone figure with shoulders hunched against the persistent drizzle. He watched every car and bus that came past with an absent gaze, his posture imbued with serene patience despite the sheen of water droplets now coating his suit and the wind that tugged at him and lifted his tie. No one was around here where the wind whistled straight up off the Bay, cold from the Atlantic Ocean, and it would be an hour or so before the hardy dinner crowds started hurrying to their reservations or to a show at the Millennium Centre.

A taxi pulled up in the bus lay-by and a tall, thin man with unruly dark hair, soon made more unruly by the wind, got out before bending over to talk to the driver. Ianto sighed and made his way across to them, clapping his friend on the back and opening the front passenger door. "Good afternoon. How much?"

The driver looked relieved at dealing with someone who wasn't Sherlock Holmes, especially someone who appeared prepared to give him money. "Four hundred, mate," he answered, with a world-weary tone. "London to Cardiff's a big one."

Ianto raised his eyebrows, but pulled out his wallet and passed over one hundred pounds and one of his socially acceptable business cards. "You can wait for me to go to a cash point, or send me an invoice."

After reading the business card carefully, the cab driver nodded his reluctant agreement and folded the notes again. "Urgent business, was it?"

"Something like that. And we may need him again, so send me a business card with the invoice?"

That seemed to cheer him up, and the driver smiled brightly. "Right you are, Mr Jenkins. It's been my pleasure. Good luck to you both, sirs."

"Thank you. Drive safely." They both stepped back and closed the doors, then Ianto raised a hand in farewell, letting Sherlock look him over. "So... seen all you need to?"

Sherlock smiled brightly. "Should I be worried that you've learnt to shoot?"

Ianto sighed and beckoned him down the Plass, towards the Water Tower. "Welcome to Cardiff. Capital of Wales, if you've not progressed past the eighteenth century yet."

Sherlock gave the Water Tower an appraising look and eyed Ianto thoughtfully. "Riveting, Ianto. Where are the bodies?"

"Down there." Ianto gestured to the sweep of stone across the Plass. "It used to be a wharf."

"I bet you're insufferable," Sherlock told him.

"Completely." They measured each other up once more, and then Ianto grinned. "It's good to see you again."

"You too," Sherlock returned his smile and clapped his hands together. "Especially with such a tempting case. And this is your boss, I assume?"

Ianto gaped for a moment, and looked to where Jack had stepped off the invisible lift. "You shouldn't have been able to see him," he commented, a little awe-struck. "Your mind really does work in strange ways."

Sherlock looked between them, unusually confused. "Why would I not be able to see him?"

"It's a perception filter," Jack explained. "Tells your mind that you don't want to see anything standing on that spot."

"Ah... I've never been one for listening to things like that," he pointed out. "But that is fearsome technology."

"It's not technology." Jack beckoned him forwards and Ianto followed them so that they all crowded together on the stone. "It just happened. This is technology."

With a clunk, the lift began to descend. Ianto gripped Jack's arm, closing his eyes tightly and so not seeing the grimace that Jack gave at his tight grip. He allowed the contact, though, and kept his eyes on Ianto until the lift arrived at the bottom and he relaxed. "Welcome to the Hub."

"You have... Did you steal this from a Bond villain?" Sherlock barely glanced at Ianto before raking his gaze across the ceiling again. "Or are you the Bond villain?"

Jack laughed and rested his hand on Ianto's shoulder, using it to push him off the lift and towards the kitchenette. "Ianto..."

"Coffee, sir?" He smiled tightly and left them quicker than usual.

Sherlock watched him go and glanced back up to the space where the lift had descended. "What happened on that lift?"

Jack shot him a glare. "Don't ask, and definitely don't ask him." He made for his office and changed the subject. "What has Ianto told you about this case?"

"He told me that this was the highest security case I've ever worked on, and that I should look at the Battle of Canary Wharf." He settled into the chair Jack indicated, crossing one leg over the other and resting his hand on it. "It's not hard to find information on it."

"I know," Jack said quietly. He looked out of the office towards the kitchenette and gave Ianto a curt nod. "Ianto prefers it that way."

"Was it really aliens?"

"Yes it was."

He leaned forwards and propped his elbow on his knee and his chin on his fist. "So aliens are real, and this is the most classified case I've ever taken. You must be an alien hunting organisation."

Jack's expression closed and he collected some papers together from his desk. "Yes we are. Torchwood is outside the government, answerable only to the reigning monarch. This is the last surviving defensive outpost, although we had nearly two dozen before the First World War."

Ianto pushed the door open with his hip and set the tray down on the recently cleared space. "I hope you've picked those papers up to sign them, sir," he told Jack mildly. "I need to get them to London by the end of the week."

Sherlock straightened up and picked up the closest mug from the tray. "What's in London?"

"That's classified." Ianto retrieved the mug and passed it to Jack, handing Sherlock a plain black one. "And that's Jack's."

"I could just find out," he taunted.

"You won't." Ianto pulled another chair over from next to the door and collected his own coffee. "And I wouldn't advise trying. How's the coffee?"

"You're not going to give me food poisoning again, are you?" He pulled a face and sipped it, then gave Ianto a grudgingly pleased smile. "Anyway, tell me more about this case."

Jack raised an eyebrow when they both looked at them and uncapped his pen, hovering it over the paperwork Ianto wanted him to sign. "My story, then?" He scrawled his signature and dropped the pen. "Male victim, found him about eight this morning. Owen estimated time of death at roughly half two, and the last people to see him alive left the pub at one."

Sherlock frowned. "The pub?"

"He ran a pub," Jack explained. "The last people to see him worked the last shift with him and left when they finished cleaning up. That was one o'clock. He died in the bar, and the office was ransacked."

He narrowed his eyes, uncrossing his legs and leaning further forwards. "The last people to see him, I need to talk to them."

Jack stood up with a grunt and gestured to the door. "Grigo's down in the apartments. I'll take you down to him and you can talk to him in the sitting room." He stopped in the doorway and turned back to them. "By the way, he's not human. Ianto, coming?"

"Yes, sir." He stepped back and returned the chair to its position next to the door, avoiding Sherlock's curious and assessing look. "You should follow him."

"You're more interesting." Sherlock stood up and poked at the paperwork on the desk. "How classified is this?"

"If I told you that, I'd have to kill you," he sighed. "Are you going to make this difficult?"

"Don't I always?" He grinned and Ianto smiled back reluctantly. "Interesting, though."

"That's what I have Jack for." He rested one hand on his hip and pointed out to where Jack was waiting near to the entrance to the lower levels. "Out."

He bowed low and strolled out ahead of Ianto, peering under desks and into corners as he went. "I hope you're treating Ianto right, by the way." Sherlock warned, bringing Ianto to a sharp stop. "That's what friends are supposed to say, isn't it?"

"Not to their friends' bosses," Ianto muttered.

Jack chuckled and shook his head, turning on his heel to head down towards the apartments again. "I treat him badly, but that's the way he likes it. Keep up kids."

They followed him down to the apartments and waited whilst he knocked on the door and leaned against it. "Grigo, you in?"

A moment later the door opened, and Grigo poked him with a book. "Where else would I be?"

Ianto smiled blandly. "Basingstoke?"

"I'd rather not." He pulled a face, which Jack laughed at, and looked to Sherlock. "Are you another of Jack's team?"

"This is our detective for the case," Jack introduced them, "Sherlock Holmes. He works in London as a consultant."

Grigo nodded, but his gills flattened. "Are you good, Mr Sherlock?"

He smiled. "I'm the best. I need to talk to you."

"Of course." He stepped back into the room and gestured around. "There's not many seats – no offence, Ianto – but I think there's enough."

Jack made to follow him in, but Ianto got close enough and rested a hand on his shoulder. "Sir, could you finish that paperwork off for me, please?"

He raised his eyebrows and glanced down at Ianto's hand, which he removed hurriedly. "Sure thing." He stepped away from the door to let them in. "You'll be okay looking after them?"

"I'm sure I can manage. Buzz me if you need me." Ianto smiled at him and stepped into the room, positioning himself out of the way against the desk to look between Grigo on the sofa and Sherlock sprawled in the armchair.

Sherlock made a show of studying the bookcase. "Are these your choices, Grigo?"

"What?" He swung around to look at them and deflated against the upholstery. "No, they're not. I have quite a large library at home... not much of it in English, though."

"You're not from this planet, then?"

Grigo sighed and settled back again, flicking a glance at Ianto. "I was born in Roath."

"Oh?" Sherlock smiled brightly. "Where's that?"

"North Cardiff," he answered. "I moved into the centre after my parents... Well, Atraxet could take better care of me than they could."

"That's the victim?" he checked. "Was he related to you?"

"Probably." Grigo shrugged. "Most of us are related to each other, however distantly."

"Us?"

"Blowfish in Cardiff. Not a large breeding population," he pointed out. He seemed to droop. "He was the only family I had, though. We were sort of... in the no-man's-land."

"Between whom?" Sherlock asked, then glanced to Ianto in time to catch a glimpse of his smile.

Grigo didn't notice. "There's alien gangs here. Some species hust like that, Blowfish do. Some say it's from our shoal ancestry. But the Dark Star was neutral territory, so we didn't belong with anyone."

"The Dark Star, that was where you saw him last, right?" Sherlock leaned forwards. "What were you doing there?"

"I work there..."

"No, specifically, what were you doing last night?"

He looked taken-aback, but answered the question hesitantly. "I was on the bar in the second bar with Ainii until closing at midat, midnight I mean. Then we cleaned that room and the second lounge, I helped fetch the bottles from the cellar to restock both bars, and then we locked up behind us."

"Locking him in," Sherlock checked.

"Well, yeah. Or he might have locked the door behind us. It was one in the morning, I'm not certain. He always sees whoever's working late off, though."

He nodded and steepled his fingers, resting them against his chin. "And you went straight home?"

"No." He frowned and shifted, dropping his gaze to the carpet. "I went to Ainii's house first, and then home from there."

"Oh yes?" Sherlock smiled teasingly. "This Ainii, you work with her, you walk her home... Sounds promising."

Grigo kept his gaze fixed on the floor, and his fins fluttered. "We're... dating. Tentatively. We like each other, but we don't want to rush it. My last girlfriend and I... she wasn't interested really."

"I'm sorry?"

He shrugged. "She wanted a career, not a man."

"Sounds like she could have combined them," Sherlock pointed out. "You seem to be pretty invested in the pub."

"I grew up there," he explained. "And I love the place. It's home."

Sherlock looked up at the ceiling and traces patterns across it. "Could you tell me what you noticed when you went to the pub this morning, then?"

"Well, I..." He swallowed and shook his head, but ploughed on. "I only saw a few rooms. The lock hadn't been forced, no one had touched the back lounge. But the office had been gone-over. They found the safe, too."

"Was it well hidden?" Sherlock dropped his gaze to consider him. "Who knew where it was?"

"Well... me and Atraxet knew." He shifted uncomfortably. "And Ainii, I think. Yunika did too."

Sherlock nodded. "What was kept in there?"

"The cash, and some of his papers." He shrugged. "Normal stuff, I think. I don't really know."

"But you knew where it was?"

"Yeah," he glanced over at Ianto, finding him gazing fixedly at the floor and seeming uninterested in the conversation. "I'd taken the cash up there once or twice, helped him with paperwork and seen him put it away in there. We have to register our paperwork with Torchwood to be able to keep running."

"Why with Torchwood?"

"Because they like to know what's going on?" Grigo guessed. "Because they're curious? Because they keep a track of us? I don't know, we just do."

"Ianto?" Sherlock looked at him as well, and Ianto looked up at last. "What does Torchwood need to know?"

"We keep a track of the alien population," Ianto explained quietly. "It helps us to deal with housing and with ships coming in periodically. Sort of like a council tax assessment and census rolled into one."

Sherlock considered this. "I'll need to see that paperwork."

"Of course."

"But now..." he jumped to his feet and came across to shake Grigo's hand. "Thank you. I need to go to the pub."

Ianto watched his exit from the room and rubbed the back of his neck. Grigo smiled weakly at him and gestured to the door. "You have my sympathies."

"Thank you." Sherlock yelled down the corridor and he sighed again. "I think I've been summoned."

He followed Sherlock out into the corridor and caught up with him at the first corner. "You haven't learned patience, then?"

"I can be patient, but sometimes I have to move fast or the ideas escape me. Patience is for people, not crime scenes, Ianto." He clapped him on the shoulder and rubbed his hands together. "You're driving, we need to see that pub."


	7. Chapter 6

They pulled up outside the Dark Star in Ianto's Audi and Sherlock piled out almost before it had come to a stop, then crouched down in the road to study the gutter. Ianto leaned against the boot to watch him, keeping his shoes away from the muddy puddle carefully. "Do you even know where it is?"

"Somewhere near here, I guess," Sherlock said, waving him away. "Someone's been sick in this gutter."

"You're disgusting." Ianto tilted his head. "What do you see?"

"Run down neighbourhood, probably not a lot of work," Sherlock guessed. "Dockworkers cottages, with dockworkers or their children still living in them. Not a lot of spare cash for drinking, so no pub on the street and cheap larger in the gutter. Tight community, but not the friendliest. And they don't travel far. No cars."

"It is the middle of the day," Ianto pointed out.

Sherlock stood up and shook his head. "You see this in London too. There'll be very few cars here in the evening either. Which suggests to me that people visit the pub on foot, because their cars would be spotted. But if they're as noticeable as Atraxet is, the comings and goings must be covert."

"Arrogant sod."

"But eminently fanciable." He straightened up and faced the alley. "Up there?"

"I don't know why you even ask." Ianto stepped across the puddle and crossed the road to the alley, pulling a torch out of his pocket to flick across the piles of rubbish and the puddles between them. "Notice anything?"

"There's a door there."

"Yes, there's a perception filter over it so you shouldn't be able to see it," Ianto pointed out. "I meant about this rubbish."

"Why, what have you spotted?" Sherlock came closer. "Oh..."

"It's all old," Ianto commented. "It's been here years." He looked up, to the glimpse of sky above the alley. "The perception filter must cover the whole alley."

"Is that bad?"

"They don't have a license for it." He nudged the pile nearest to him with his foot and pulled a face at the smell it released. "Let's get inside."

The door squeaked minutely, clear in the near-silence, and Ianto held the door open for Sherlock. He immediately set to poking around the room, picking up bar mats to read them and collecting them in a pile on one table. Owen came around the corner to lean in the doorway and watch them. "Jones, who's this?"

Ianto nodded a greeting and went back to watching Sherlock. "This is Sherlock Holmes. He's a private detective, consulting us on this case."

"Consulting detective," Sherlock corrected him. "I don't find lost pets, I solve cases."

Owen snorted and turned away. "Great. I thought Jack wanted this case cracked, not a..."

"Shut up." Sherlock cut across him and spread the bar mats out across the table. "I had a thought, but your face chased it away."

"My face?"

"Owen, where are Tosh and Gwen?" Ianto interrupted, resting his hands on his hips. "Are they both still here?"

"Gwen's gone back to the Hub like Jack said," Owen said, shooting Sherlock a glare. Tosh is still recording the rooms. She's upstairs."

"Then you should be on the bar room door," Ianto pointed out. He looked up to meet Owen's glare at last and nodded towards the door. "We'll start upstairs and then finish down there and take him back to the Hub."

Owen curled his lip and didn't shift from the doorway. His hands clenched and he lifted his chin. "I've been down here all day. You stay with the body, I'll go up and take him to the office."

Ianto dropped his gaze again, but Sherlock brushed past him. "I need someone intelligent to talk to up there." Owen glared at him and opened his mouth, but Sherlock cut across him. "Besides, I spent two years training Ianto."

Owen glared at his back and switched it to Ianto, raising his hand to his ear. "Tosh, Ianto and some detective are on their way up. Can you watch them?"

The steps creaked under Ianto's feet, and Owen's boots thudded down to the front bar in the other direction. Sherlock was kneeling in the doorway of the office, peering under the desk, and Tosh was standing behind him with her laptop hugged to her chest. She smiled at Ianto and hugged her laptop tighter. "This must be Sherlock," she said quietly. "I've got scans of all the rooms, so you can move anything you like."

"Thank you..." he trailed off and looked over at his shoulder, waiting for an introduction.

"Sherlock, this is Toshiko Sato. Sherlock is a consulting detective," Ianto explained.

"Consulting detective?" Tosh asked. "What does that entail?"

Sherlock returned his attention to the office, poking through the pile of books. "I consult to the police, rather than to private persons. I'm allergic to dogs."

Ianto frowned, but changed the subject. "See anything?"

"The safe is opened," Sherlock muttered and gestured under the desk. "But see this... There's papers and books inside the safe."

"Grigo said that paperwork was kept in there," Ianto pointed out.

"No, they've fallen here." He scooted forwards and picked up a volume of a book collection. "The rest of this collection is on the floor and on the bookcase, but this one is between the safe door and the safe. And there's no damage to the door..."

Ianto nodded. "So whoever found it didn't find what they were looking for. They knew what they wanted."

"Correct." Sherlock grabbed the paperwork out of the safe and shoved it at Ianto, then started combing the floor. "These crystals... they're soluble."

"Don't lick them." Ianto shifted the papers under his arm and leaned forwards into the room. "They're poisonous to humans."

"Ianto, I am not in the habit of licking random crystals I find in crime scenes," Sherlock sighed. "Some of it's been crushed into the carpet... Or it's something different. No this is definitely different." He knelt up to grab a handful of cash bags and a pencil from the scattered mess across the desk and poked some of the powder into one bag, then some of the crystals into another. "We could feed these to Owen, see if they kill him."

Ianto sighed.

Tosh looked past him at Sherlock, worrying her lip. "You should see his bedroom as well. I don't think he went to bed last night."

After one last glance around the room Sherlock got to his feet and put the book back on the bookcase, where it looked lonely and forlorn between tumbled volumes and a lone ripped page. "Lead on Toshiko Sato."

She ducked her head to hide behind her fringe and looked to Ianto for confirmation. He nodded and stepped back to the top of the stairs to let Sherlock out of the office to follow Tosh along the landing. The first room they passed was a dormitory, and Sherlock stopped to look into it briefly. "There is nothing sadder than an empty and unused bedroom," he commented to Ianto.

Ianto nodded his agreement but said nothing, watching Sherlock stride to the next door and fling it open. "You grew out of the dramatics, then?"

"Never," Sherlock confirmed absently. "You were nearly right, Tosh, but this bed has been slept in."

He crossed the room and started turning back the sheets whilst she watched from the doorway. "How can you tell?" she asked. "The bed is made. Was made."

"The bedside table," he didn't explain.

Tosh frowned and turned to Ianto, curious. He smiled and nudged her shoulder. "Go on, ask. He just wants to show off."

She nudged him back and smiled. "What do you mean, Sherlock?"

He beamed at her and swept the collection of miscellaneous detritus off the bedside table to show her. "The everyday accumulations of someone with a magpie eye, all scattered across the bedside table. He normally sorts things into their proper places, probably in the morning, coin into that jar on the windowsill, cuff-links into the box on top of the chest of drawers, tissue into the bin, but he hasn't done that. But they're not in his pockets either, which means..." he raised his eyebrows at her questioningly and proffered the pile.

She backed away a little and looked between him and Ianto. "Erm... He was interrupted?"

"No," he scoffed. "You're missing it. Ianto?"

"He emptied his pockets to go to bed, but not for long. He might not even have changed before he got up, but he took the things out of his pockets because they're uncomfortable to sleep on," he guessed slowly.

Sherlock closed his hands over them with a single clap. "You've not forgotten everything I taught you, then. But look around the room, coat-hangers on the front of the wardrobe." He dumped the pile back on the bedside table and went to the wardrobe. "He knew that he'd be changing in a hurry, and after not a lot of sleep, so he got his suit out ready."

Ianto met his eyes and nodded his understanding. "Whoever killed him, he was expecting them."


	8. Chapter 7

Jack paced restlessly around his office, and his head snapped up when the cog doors rolled open to admit Gwen. He went to join her, ignoring the fact that she was refusing to look at him. "So," he started, leaning against the end of her desk. "How did it go out there?"

"I left grunt work behind when I left the police, Jack." She dropped her gun into her drawer and spared him a glare. "And did you have to leave me with Owen?"

He shrugged carelessly. "It's not all glamour here, PC Cooper. You should see some of the stake-outs the rest of us have pulled whilst you've been curled up with Rhys at nights. I'd trade with you any day. And it had to be you and Owen because Ianto and Tosh both had more productive things to do."

"Like what?"

"Like perfecting the scanner that's going to record the rooms in every detail so we can go over them later for Tosh, and bringing in a detective for Ianto," he explained with more bite to his voice. "If you'd been able to add something to the case through your police experience other than your abilities at minding a crime scene, then maybe you wouldn't just have been minding a crime scene. At least you stayed at this one, rather than stalking people, I hope?"

"That's not fair, Jack," she protested. "I could have been doing all sorts of things..."

"Like what?" he shot back at her. "Tosh and Ianto proposed things they could do to me and did them. I can't figure out what you could have been doing, but if you've got an idea then I'm all ears."

"Well... I could talk to the alien you brought in," she suggested. "I'm good at talking to people and getting answers out of them."

"You are," he agreed, relaxing slightly. "I need to tell you more about the community before you go down there, though." He gestured for her to sit down and she did, perching awkwardly on the edge of her chair. "There's a whole other world, living right alongside yours, that you never knew existed."

"Why do we not know?" she asked quietly. "Even the police, Jack. Surely it's the sort of thing that people need to know."

"Because they don't trust humans enough yet." He shrugged and continued, "With good reason, I guess. Have you seen the news lately? Anyway... There's about two hundred people living in Cardiff as refugees, and roughly fifty living as permanent residents to supply them. We're not sure how many illegals there are. UNIT keep track of ships passing through Earth's atmosphere and make sure that any aliens anywhere in the world are picked up if a ship is going their way. Whilst they wait they live their lives like anyone else. There's a school and a newspaper, a shop run from someone's back room, the Dark Star and even a court. Sometimes they ask me to help them deal with things, to source something they're short of, or settle a dispute. Mostly they prefer not to though.

"The Blowfish tend to be the service residents. Their planet's not far away, and they bring supply ships in occasionally so they don't get stranded here. The problem is that they bring the drugs with them."

"So was he killed over drugs?" she asked.

Jack sighed and shrugged again. "I don't know. I don't know why anyone would want to kill him. It could be that one of the gangs is getting too close."

"Wait, there's alien gangs in Cardiff?" She stared at him disbelievingly. "How do people not notice?"

"Because people are stupid."

Their comm units beeped before she could form a response to that and Jack activated his to answer Tosh. "Toshiko, have you found something?"

"Owen and I are coming back to the Hub," she informed them. "Sherlock wanted to be able to look around without us there." There was something carefully delicate about the way she phrased it.

Jack pulled Tosh's chair out and logged in to her computer. "I need you to pick up another suspect. She lives on Machen Place, name of Yunika Dirasth. She should be alone, but bring in anyone who's with her. Just tell her it's Torchwood business, okay?"

"Got it, Jack."

Tosh rang off and Jack sat back in the chair, rubbing his lower lip with his thumb and ignoring Gwen's questioning gaze.

X~X~X~X

Sherlock stood in the doorway of the bar, eyes flicking into every corner and shadow. His lips curled but he stayed silent as he stepped into the room towards the body and paused with the toes of his shoes at the edge of the sticky residue of the spilled drink. Ianto followed him into the room and kept his hands in his pockets, staying safely out of the way as he had since Owen had stormed from the building. A clock on the wall ticked away and added the only soundtrack until Sherlock stepped forwards again and shattered glass crunched under his feet.

"No ashtrays," he commented. "Anywhere in the bar. Have you noticed that?"

"Of course not." Ianto studied his own feet and Sherlock sighed at him. "I mean, of course I didn't notice..."

"Ianto, you know how to use your brain. Don't let him put you off because he doesn't think you should be allowed to think." Sherlock stepped forwards again, towards the bar. "What do you notice about these bottles?"

Ianto came to join him, passing him to lean on the bar and look at the bottles more closely. "I don't recognise any of them. They must all have been brought in on the supply ships. Apart from the Pepsi."

"Oh, really?" Sherlock came and leaned over the bar until he could see the Pepsi in the fridge. "I'm glad to see you've kicked the habit, at least."

"You're insufferable." Ianto glanced at Sherlock and rolled his eyes. "Still insufferable."

He rested his elbows on the counter and pressed the tips of his fingers together, leaning them against his chin. "There's no spaces on the shelves. They must have fully restocked last night. Probably do it every night after they've finished, then they can do the order and get what they need the next day before they open the bar."

"So did he keep that one out for entertaining and then get smashed with it?" Ianto asked.

"No, look at it, Ianto," Sherlock scoffed dismissively. "It's a different drink, whether that's a brand or just a flavour, I can't read the language." He turned back and picked up the largest lump of glass, which was held together by a sodden label. "Look; it doesn't match any of these bottles."

"From his private collection, then?" Ianto returned to the doorway to collect an evidence bag and held it open for Sherlock to drop it in. "We can take it back with us and ask Grigo to tell us what it is, or Jack might know it."

Sherlock took the bag from him and held it up, scowling at the damage done to the paper by the liquid it had been lying in. "It was expensive and probably effervescent. See how thick the glass is?"

"Do you think it was chosen for its head-bashing suitability?"

Freezing, Sherlock raised his eyes to the ceiling and pressed his hands together again. "Oh... Oh yes. He was expecting a meeting. Look at him, the suit, the cufflinks, even the bar. Who cleans a bar this well when they close up at midnight? Who gets up to meet someone in the middle of the night in a suit if it's not an important meeting? And who meets someone in the middle of the night if it's not illicit?"

Ianto shrugged one shoulder. "Drug dealers?"

"That's fairly illicit."

"Yeah," he conceded. "Just a bit. So he was up to something."

"Well evidently." He moved away to the table and crouched down to look at the glasses. "These were set up. Only one person drank from them. Probably the killer, steadying their nerves. Does Torchwood have DNA records for aliens in Cardiff?"

"Of course..."

Sherlock shook his head and waved it away. "It'll be the victim, them. No murderer this clever would leave their DNA on a glass like that."

"I was worried you'd say that." Ianto reached past him and picked up the glass to study the lip imprint on the edge. "That would have been very easy." He sighed and took it to the cases by the door. "We'll run it just in case, but I suspect you're right."

X~X~X~X

Yunika leaned back in her chair and held her glass of water casually. Her whiskers and ears twitched occasionally, but she stayed still otherwise, even her tail lying calmly across her lap. She smiled politely when Jack entered and rose to meet him. "Jack, dear. It's been a long time."

"Down, girl," he teased gently. "I'm on business."

"I was just saying hello," she protested, but sat down again anyway. "It's a dreadful business, Jack."

"Can you think of anyone who would want to kill him?" he asked. "Was there trouble?"

She chuckled and shook her head. "You're out of the loop, Jack-boy. There was all sorts of trouble. He'd been arguing with Grigo about the future of the Star. Ainii had all sorts of ideas he didn't like. Well, he generally didn't like Ainii. Didn't like me, either." She took a sip of water and smiled into her glass. "I think he was a bit over-posessive of Grigo, actually. No one was good enough for his little boy."

"Yunika..."

"What?" She smirked at him and curled her tail behind herself. "I'm not bitter. Much."

He sighed and sat down opposite her. "Yunika, we need to know anything you can tell us. And you know me, I can keep you here as long as I need to."

Her ears flattened against her head and her tail twitched. "You wouldn't."

"Deny myself your lovely company, Yunika?" He rested his chin on his entwined fingers. "We've not talked in a long time."

"Your name should be Heartless, not Harkness," she scoffed at him, raising her glass again. "You could at least have given me something stronger. Okay, what do you need to know?"

He smiled his thanks and sat back in the chair. "Was it gang related?"

"What isn't, ultimately? But directly related, I don't think so." She set her glass down and leaned forwards. "There were gang arguments, always were, and they've been getting worse since you stopped coming so often. But I don't think it was one of those that killed him. They know there's nothing in it for them."

"Did he owe anyone money?"

"Not that I know of. The finances were all in order last time I saw them..." She flicked her tail in annoyance. "Don't look at me like that, Jack. He just wanted a fresh set of eyes to go over it once a month and Grigo was away."

"Seems like a touchy subject," he commented. "I wasn't insinuating anything of the sort."

"Ainii," she snapped. "As always. She's a xenophobic vira."

"You don't get on?"

"Really, Jack, how ever did you figure that out?" She picked up her glass again and downed the remaining water in one. "I mean it, you could have given me something stronger. But no, no money issues that I know of."

"Drugs or drink?"

She gave him a scornful look. "Artaxet? Was as clean as a fristya, you know that. He wouldn't allow the stuff in the pub even. He'd had to bar people lately for bringing it in, more and more often. Only about half a dozen this year, but still..."

"The gangs are getting closer, then?" he mused. "I should have seen this coming."

"You do your best, Jack," she muttered, apparently taking pity on him. "But Atraxet said there was something he wanted to talk to you about. He didn't tell me what, but Grigo might know."

"Thanks, Yunika." He stood up and gestured to her glass. "I'll send someone in with refreshments for you. You'll have to stay here until this is sorted, but we'll take care of you."

"You're extremely inconvenient, Captain." She settled back in the chair despite her words and smiled up at him. "Maybe I'll see you tonight?"

He paused in the doorway and chuckled. "Sorry, Yunika. I'm having dinner with our detective, and that ship has sailed anyway."

Owen was watching him when he entered the viewing room beyond which led to the upper levels, looking somewhat incredulous. "How many of our suspects have you shagged, Harkness?"

Ignoring him, Jack made for the far door and activated his comm unit. "Guys, boardroom now. Ianto, are you nearly here?"

"Just dropped the body off in the morgue, sir. Coffee?"

"What would we do without it?"


	9. Chapter 8

Gwen finished sticking her print-outs to the wall just as Ianto arrived with the drinks, and accepted her coffee with a flash of a smile, clutching it to her chest whilst she waited for them all to settle down again. Once they had she cleared her throat and set the mug down, glancing between Jack and Sherlock as she started. "So, the victim is a barkeeper who runs an establishment for aliens. Real aliens, not just legal aliens. Alien aliens. And he was an alien."

Jack folded his arms and sighed, so she hurried on, "He was found at half past eight this morning, and Owen estimates that he was killed between half past three and four o'clock. Killed in the bar by blunt force trauma to the head, using a glass bottle. He was struck with some force – it shattered the bottle.

"The office was turned over, but all the other rooms seem to have been left untouched," she finished. "I think Detective Holmes has more details about that..."

Owen held his hand up before Sherlock could start, although he had shown no inclination to do so. "What I want to know is why Jack was there in the first place. You just happened to go around the day he died?"

"I had a Weevil call not far from the place and decided to call in and see if he was up," Jack defended himself. "I hadn't seen him in a while."

"Yeah, but everyone knows you don't sleep, and that you're a bit of a, how shall we put this... control freak." He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms, mirroring Jack's pose almost exactly. "You like to think you run this city. Did he get above his position? And without a will, I bet you can claim the property and put who you want in charge."

"Owen..." Jack growled.

Sherlock waved his hand dismissively, drawing all their attention. "It wasn't Jack. He would have woken Ianto, and we'd know about that."

There was silence around the table whilst Ianto dropped his gaze to the table. Eventually he muttered, "Sherlock, you owe me a drink," and Gwen's nervous laugh broke the tension.

Owen glared at Sherlock. "What do you mean he would have woken Ianto?"

"Ianto's a very light sleeper," he explained simply, "and he needs his sleep. If he'd had fewer than six hours we'd know about it, therefore he must have got to bed at two for Jack to be up in time to catch the Weevil and get to the pub to discover the body. Of course that's easily verifiable, so why would he lie about it, so let's assume that that's true. If he was killed between three and four then Jack would have woken Ianto leaving, and we'd know about it. Therefore, Jack can't have killed him."

"But why would Jack wake Ianto?" Gwen asked, frowning between them.

"Jack stayed at mine last night," Ianto admitted quietly.

"But... why would Jack stay with you when he lives..." she trailed off and her eyes widened. "Oh..."

"Anyway." Sherlock rested his fingers together again. "Nice to know what I'm working with, I suppose. So, not Jack. Not Ianto either. What do you want to know Ianto?"

"Haven't you grown up yet?"

He opened one eye and glared at him. "I meant a relevant question. I don't have time for people's feelings."

He sighed and shifted his grip on his coffee cup. "You said that only one glass was drunk from. But there was residue in both glasses. Who had the drink, and why?"

X~X~X~X

"It's expensive." Ainii studied the label through a magnifying glass under Jack's careful eye and Sherlock's apparently bored consideration. "And strong; nearly 30% and best for mixing. It tastes excellent on its own, though. If he was drinking this he was showing off."

"Who said he was drinking it?" Jack asked pointedly. "He was smashed over the head with it."

"What a waste." She straightened up and set the label down. "I would kill for a bottle of that, but not by destroying it."

He folded his arms and glared at her. "So how easy is it to get hold of?"

"Twenty bottles came in on the last shipment, officially. Five of them were sold in a batch for the midwinter festival. Ten were bought very publicly and with a lot of flash. Five less so." She tucked her hands into the front pocket of her gaudy pinafore dress. "I can tell you who bought the ten easily, and when they were drunk for most of them. The other five it'll be harder, but I know two already."

"I don't need to know where the empties are," Jack pointed out. "Call around, tell them you're wanting to do an installation art with the glass or something, ask if they have an empty bottle."

"It's a shame," she said as he turned away. "He was thinking of moving on."

"How do you mean?"

"Oh, he was tired of the pub," she sighed and leaned over the label again. "The constant arguments, Yunika was on the warpath again, wanted the pub doing her way. I think he was ready to let someone else do the arguing."

He frowned at her casual tone. "Any idea who?"

"Not a clue." She smiled at him softly and shook her head. "Sorry, Jack. It might be in the will, though."

He looked at her for a moment longer, confused, then shrugged and pushed the door open. "Maybe. Thanks Ainii, I'll have a look."

X~X~X~X

Ainii had grumbled at being kept at the Hub after she'd come in to help them, especially when the three of them were locked into their rooms to keep them from talking to each other. Tosh had the CCTV footage of their corridor up on one screen and the call-out records from the night before up on another, and she removed her glasses to rub at her eyes. "Jack was telling the truth about the call-out. Weevil sighting reported at eight this morning by a woman walking her kids to school. The system picked up on the report and sent it to Jack's wriststrap. He filed it as not relevant fifteen minutes later and didn't get to file a full report because he stopped off at the Dark Star." She collected a map from the printer and passed it over to Owen. "And it was nearly on route. Just two streets across."

He accepted the print-out from her and scowled at it. "So he picked up a Weevil on his way to report the death. Are we really going on what the London ponce says about him and Ianto? He wouldn't trust Ianto as far as he could throw him, let alone sleep with him."

She sucked on the leg of her glasses and shook her head. "I don't know. Maybe he's just picked upon something really obvious we've not seen. Or maybe Ianto's in on it as well and brought the detective in to help him and Jack cover it up. I can't believe the second one."

"Can't you?"

"No," she said firmly. "It's not them. And it's too involved. Why get in a private detective at all if they want to cover it up? We'd never have figured it out ourselves, especially if Jack were trying to stop us."

He shook his head and turned back to his computer. "Maybe you're right, but he's too involved with all of this. Something's going on."

She hummed a non-committal noise and came over to stand behind him. "What have you got running?"

"Oh, sample analysis from the pub." He brought up the full scan summary and settled back, folding his arms. "Powder that the detective found in the office and the crystals alongside it. The drink in the glasses, bloodwork on the victim and the liquid on the floor. Did you hear what the fish-woman said about it?"

"Sounds like very exclusive champagne." She leaned closer to look at the progress bars on the archive scan and sighed. "This is going to be a long night. I'm about ready for dinner. How about you?"

"Sure." He unfolded his arms and sighed. "I guess we'd better feed the guests as well."

Tosh smiled brightly and reached for her mouse again. "I'll order in. Curry?"


	10. Chapter 9

Ianto ran a brush over the toe of Jack's right boot one more time and set it down between the left one and his own dress shoes. Sherlock watched him from the other side of the island unit and smiled. "You know, it was your shoes that gave you away," he said casually.

"My shoes?" Ianto asked with an air of resignation. "Do explain."

"Your left shoe, actually." Sherlock smirked over his steepled fingers. "Have you any idea..."

"No, Sherlock, I don't." He crossed to the counter by the sink and pulled a drawer out roughly.

"You clean his shoes," Sherlock explained. "You clean his shoes and put yours down next to them. Cleaning his shoes, that could be professional, and they could have been next to each other in the course of work, but for you to clean his shoes after yours were cleaned and put them down so close together that mud from Jack's uncleaned boot transfers to your clean shoe..." He spread his hands beatifically. "He must have been at your apartment after you got home from work and stayed the night."

"If I tell you you're brilliant, will you promise not to do it again?"

Sherlock folded his hands in his lap. "You're cross with me."

Ianto sighed and started running water into the sink to wash up. "Our colleagues didn't know."

"So..." Sherlock frowned at him. "It would be rather hypocritical of Harper and Cooper to object."

"Oh, is that still going on?" Ianto sighed and shook his head. He reached for the first coffee mug and dipped it in the water. "Besides... Jack's our boss and I..." He trailed off and shook the mug more violently than was needed to get rid of the excess water. "It doesn't matter."

The doorbell rang, and in the silence that followed they heard Jack crossing the living room to get it and greeting the delivery. Ianto fetched a stack of plates from the cupboard and carried them through to the small table in the corner of the kitchen, retrieving another mat from the drawer underneath it and setting the plates out. Shirley Bassey crooned in the living room and Jack paused in the kitchen doorway, looking between the two of them. "Someone say something?" he asked with emphasised joviality. "Dinner's arrived, anyway."

Ianto smiled at him whilst he set the chopsticks out and gestured to the table. "Well, let's eat, shall we? It won't stay hot."

When he got to the point where he could see the end of the counter unit, Jack paused and frowned slightly, moving slower to set the bags down on the table. "Ianto, did you clean my boots again?"

"Yes." He fetched a bowl and opened the bags of prawn crackers into it. "I was doing mine, did yours at the same time. Is that okay?"

Sighing, Jack smiled and sat down next to him, opposite Sherlock. "Thank you. You don't have to look after me, though."

"You can kiss him, if you want to," Sherlock told them, peering into a plastic container of chow mien. "I won't look."

"Sherlock..." Ianto growled. "For God's sake, hasn't anyone housetrained you yet?"

He laughed at the idea. "Who'd live with me? They'd need the patience of a saint..."

"And the constitution of a goat," Ianto added for him. "Are you still keeping body parts in the fridge?"

"Where else would I put them?" He asked innocently, but his eyes sparkled with amusement. "It seems to be taking Mrs Hudson some time to get used to."

"Yes, about that..." Ianto speared a piece of water chestnut and waved it at him. "Hasn't your landlady kicked you out yet? You've been there nearly two months. Centre of London, she could have much cleaner tenants."

"There's an interesting story there..." He glanced at Jack, his gaze dropping to the corner of the table, and smiled to himself. "It all started when I went to a conference in Las Vegas..."

X~X~X~X

Sherlock stayed in the kitchen watching Ianto wash up again, whilst Jack settled in the living room reading the paper. He rested his feet on the other seat and leaned back as far as he could without falling back. "There's another room in the flat in London," he told the wall. "It's full of things at the moment, but I could clear it out."

Ianto set the first plate on the drying rack and sighed. "What are you asking, Sherlock?"

"I need an assistant. Not enough people at the Yard will work with me, especially since Lestrade got promoted..." He scowled in thought. "It would be good to have someone around..."

"No."

"What?" He swung around and planted his feet on the floor. "You always loved London, the rent is low for the location, you understand how I am."

"I said no, Sherlock." He carried on washing without looking around. "It was fun whilst it lasted, but I need to have a purpose. Besides, Torchwood needs me."

"Torchwood doesn't need you," he scoffed. "Everything you do one of the others could do easily. Your only purpose is to free them up to do other things. I need someone to talk to."

Ianto tensed up and hunched his shoulders. "I know, comparative advantage and I am otherwise worthless. But at least they don't make me feel worthless like you always do. Jack at least pretends that he needs me around."

"Jack just wants you around," he corrected dismissively, "he doesn't need you at all."

He sighed and shook his head. "That's enough for me. It's nice to be wanted. No, Sherlock," he cut him off before he could speak again. "I like it here. I don't want to leave Torchwood. And I'm not willing to put up with you belittling me again; it couldn't last."

"When do I belittle you?"

"Just now," he snapped. "How else am I supposed to take you telling me that I only do the things I do because I'm not good enough at something else, and that my ideal purpose in life is to make you look intelligent?"

"I'm just..."

Ianto set the last plate on the drying rack and pulled the plug, striding from the room. "I'm just going to change."

He got halfway across the living room, passing the back of the sofa, when Jack reached out to catch his arm and rubbed his thumb against the curve of his elbow. "Hey," Jack leaned back to be able to look over the sofa at Ianto. "You okay?"

"Yeah." He smiled and detached Jack's hand from his arm carefully. "Just... He's hard work."

Jack smiled back and dropped his arm. "Okay. By the way, I'm glad you turned him down."

Ianto stepped closer to touch Jack's cheek with the backs of two fingers, just for a moment. "I thought you would be." He turned away again and headed for his bedroom. "Back in a minute."

X~X~X

Tosh knocked gently on the last door and leaned close to it. "Ainii, I brought dinner. You must be hungry by now."

The door opened a moment later and Ainii greeter her with a tired smile, widening the door further to let her in. "Thanks, Tosh. It's hard to know the passage of time down here." She gestured into the room and her smile turned hopeful. "Have you got time to stay a while, or have you got to get back to work?"

"I can stay," she said eagerly, then ducked her head as she realised how enthusiastic she sounded. "I'm sorry. We don't get to talk to a... non-humans often. I'll probably say the wrong thing a lot."

"That's okay." Ainii ushered her to a chair and flopped into the other one. "I don't see many humans, either. It's a shame, really. You all seem sort of... cool."

Tosh laughed quietly and leaned forwards to unpack the bag of food. "We're not really. Always fighting amongst ourselves. Sometimes I think that the secrecy and the lies, it's all protecting other species from us."

Ainii accepted a box of curry and rice and sniffed it cautiously, then accepted a fork and dug in. "You have good food, though," she pointed out. "And I like Beethoven."

"I prefer Vivaldi, myself." Tosh smiled at her. "You listen to a lot of music?"

"Yeah, lots. There's not a lot else to do when you can't go outside during the day," she sighed, stabbing her food listlessly. "I'd love to be able to go to a gig, browse through the CDs in a real shop... Just sit in the centre of Cardiff and eat ice cream. I love ice cream! We don't have it, you know? We have sort-of-milk, but it comes from a flower, and I don't think it freezes."

"You have it now," Tosh said softly. "I'd hate to be trapped indoors like that. I once... I was in prison, for a while. It wasn't nice."

Ainii reached out sympathetically and patted Tosh's knee, which was all she could reach. "I'm sorry, Toshiko. And you mustn't see much of the world trapped down here, I suppose."

"No, not really," she agreed.

"You'll have to come to the Star sometimes," Ainii suggested more cheerfully. "We'd love to see you there. I expect Grigo will inherit it, Atraxet saw him as a son. I might move in there with him," she added shyly.

"Oh yes?"

"I have a good feeling about it," she laughed. "But I'd love to open it up more. The gangs aren't allowed in, so they resent us. It would be so good to use it as a place to unite them, to stop the fighting. Don't you think?"

"Peace in our time?" Tosh smiled at her and nodded. "Sounds like a good aim to me."


	11. Chapter 10

Ianto glared at Sherlock's loud progress around the autopsy bay and hugged his mug to his chest. "I don't suppose you have a volume control, Sherlock?"

"I'm thinking, Ianto. More important things to consider than how much noise I'm making." He span around and pulled drawers out. "Where does he put the..."

"Oi!" Owen stormed through the Hub towards them and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Out of my autopsy bay."

"Oh, really?" He sighed but retreated up the steps obediently. "I need my own lab. The kitchen just won't do." They stared at him and he shrugged defensively. "Mrs Hudson keeps moving things. Anyway, Doctor Harper, what have you found?"

Owen continued to watch him with suspicion, but started moving around the room collecting the results form his scans. "Don't get your knickers in a twist. Ianto, you look rough. Did Jack keep you up too late last night?"

Ianto bristled at his snide tone. "Actually, my house-guest brought his violin. And seems to forget that mere mortals need to sleep."

"It was a social experiment, Ianto. I needed to be sure that you still need as much sleep as you always used to to be able to confirm my suppositions from yesterday." He explained it with a tired air, but refused to meet Ianto's eyes. "We proved that you are still a light sleeper, and that you function at noticeably lower levels if you're interrupted at that time of night."

"I hate you."

"I had deduced as much." He shrugged it off and carried on frowning at Owen. "Well?"

Owen glared at him but pulled the results up on the projector. "We found significant traces of Chi."

"Where?" Ianto asked.

"Everywhere." He smiled slightly. "On the glass shards of the bottle, in the trace in the glasses, in his blood... and it was that white powder on his office floor too."

Ianto nodded slowly. "So he was addicted or dealing."

"Which explains the midnight meeting," Owen suggested.

Sherlock looked sideways at Ianto. "What's Chi?"

"Chi is to Chiklo as injecting pure caffeine is to coffee," Ianto explained. "Except addictive rather than lethal. They call an addiction to it a craze, with reason. We don't allow it to be imported in its pure form, so there's a buzzing industry in producing it. This is why we try to control the supply chains as well, so we have a record of how much has been sold where. They always find a way around it, of course."

Owen eyed Ianto with suspicion, but nodded agreement. "It's like ecstasy, by all accounts. Except poisonous to humans."

Sherlock shook his head. "There's more to it than that. We need to find out who stands to inherit. It's all in the inheritance..."

"No one will inherit," Jack said quietly from behind them. "I've got a copy of Atraxet's will in the secure archives, but the pub isn't on it..."

"What?" Sherlock wheeled around to look at him. "It's property, he must have left it to someone..."

"No, because he doesn't own it." Jack looked at all of them, and only Ianto seemed to understand. "Torchwood does."

Sherlock pressed his hands together in dawning realisation. "Oh... The killer didn't know that."

"Well, that narrows it down." Jack turned on his heel and headed for the lower levels. "Ianto, prepare the interrogation room."

X~X~X~X

Jack leaned back in his chair and sighed heavily. "Why did you do it? Were you just that impatient?"

"You wouldn't understand," Ainii snapped. "I wanted to be able to do something good with it, but Yunika threatened everything. She wanted to stagnate."

"We wouldn't have allowed you to change," Jack told her sternly. "Did you not think that Torchwood would have a say?"

"Your time is nearly over." Her fins flapped in a manner that was clearly dismissive. "How much do you think you can do with four employees? Torchwood is finished, and we are going to have to start taking care of ourselves. Twenty-first century, Jack."

He sighed and glanced at Sherlock, who was standing in the corner of the room watching them quietly. "Tell me how it happened."

"Figure it out." She folded her arms and sneered at him. "You're so smart, you must know by now."

Sherlock spoke quietly before Jack could answer. "You've been playing a long game. How far back did it start? You started supplying Atraxet with drugs to cause a rift between him and Grigo. When he kept it under control you got closer to Grigo, but now you were trapped in it – he couldn't admit to using the drugs, but you couldn't split them up in case he told Grigo it was you who'd been supplying him. Instead you used Yunika as the tool, created friction between her and Grigo to make her a more likely suspect, am I right?"

Ainii shifted uncomfortably and nodded, and Sherlock smirked and carried on. "You couldn't seduce him – that would be a betrayal too far between Grigo and Atraxet and he'd never do that. You'd already found that they were too close, so you made yourself a part of Grigo so that you'd at least be able to join him in running the pub. Would you have killed Grigo as well if we hadn't found you out?"

"What happened last night?" Jack asked quietly.

Ainii dropped her gaze to the tabletop. "We always met to trade after work, after Grigo had walked me home. I told him I had something special, a business proposition. He turned me down." She folded her arms and turned her head to glare at the wall. "It was all over. He wanted to come clean to Grigo, bar me from the pub. I couldn't let that happen."

"So you relied on him having left the pub to Grigo and killed him." Jack pushed the chair back and stood up. "You'll be taken to a UNIT prison in the morning. Right now, I don't want to look at you." He paused in the doorway and turned back to her with a half-smile. "He never trusted you, you know? Otherwise you would have known that the pub wasn't his to leave. It would all have been for nothing anyway."


	12. Epilogue

Ianto collected the report from the printer and slipped it into a manilla wallet, then took it up to Jack's office. He knocked on the door before he entered, but didn't wait for Jack to look up before he stepped in to set the folder on the desk. "Sir?"

"Sorry." Jack looked up at him and smiled tiredly. "I thought I knew her."

"I..." Ianto licked his lips and hovered. "Yeah."

"Ianto..." He reached out and grabbed Ianto's wrist, holding it gently. "What you did was nothing like this. Don't compare yourself to her."

"It's not..."

"Completely different," he insisted. "I forgave you because you did it to help, even if it was misguided..." Ianto's expression brought him up short and he asked, "You knew, right?"

Ianto shook his head and leaned down to brush his lips against Jack's for the briefest moment before he straightened up and looked around, checking that no one had seen. "Thank you."

Jack smiled up at him and rubbed his thumb over the inside of his wrist. "You know I'll hurt you if you get too close to me."

"I know..." He removed his wrist from Jack's hold and sat carefully on the edge of the desk. "I suppose I just consider it a risk worth taking."

"I really must get back to London," Sherlock told them, striding in unannounced and wrapping his scarf around his neck as he did so. "I have to retrieve this painting before it leaves the country." He paused next to Ianto and smiled at him sideways. "And I could always use the help. Are you still good with locks?"

Jack raised his eyebrows and Ianto coughed, embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Sherlock, but I have work to do. I can't leave."

"Oh well." He sighed and finished fastening his scarf. "Until next time then, Ianto."

Ianto shook his hand cautiously. "Next time?"

"There's always a next time." He shook Jack's hand and nodded out of the door. "I think I'll catch a train home. You can take me as far as the station."

"I'll find my car keys." Ianto ushered him towards the door, but paused in the doorway with his hand on the handle. "By the way, sir?"

Jack looked up again and failed to hide his amusement. "Yes, Ianto?"

"If you want to use my kitchen, tonight..." He trailed off and shrugged. "Well, I wouldn't mind the company."

"Okay. I'd like that." He shifted a file on his desk and nodded to himself. "We're going on a field trip tomorrow, just you and me. There's something I need to show you." He added quietly, "The others won't understand."

Sherlock yelled for him down in the Hub and Ianto nodded, stepping back. "I'll get rid of our guest. You can tell me about it tonight."

**The End**

**Author's Note:** Thanks for reading it, guys! I hope you've enjoyed it as much as I loved writing it. There is some fantastic art for this story over on my LiveJournal (Fiwen1010), created for me as part of the Big Bang exchange.


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